


To Make the Blind See

by sugasneckpillow



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Bullying, Disability, Discrimination, Growing Up, Happy Ending tho, Insecurity, Lots of Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, blind! guanlin, im sorry for this torture, jihoon is his lover, really painful, very cute in the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 17:54:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14001423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugasneckpillow/pseuds/sugasneckpillow
Summary: Guanlin had always been accustomed to being in the dark alone, but a ray of sunshine called Park Jihoon came crashing one particular morning at 7:25 am on Platform 5 and turned his life upside down.





	To Make the Blind See

The lovebirds had first met on the platform 5, waiting to board the train to arrive at their schools in different districts. 

Park Jihoon had spotted Lai Guanlin, who was foreign to the country, the transport system, the district… everything. The tall boy had stood, cowering in helplessness with a stick in his hand, not knowing if he should ask for assistance from passengers he couldn’t even see or apprehend.

At that moment, Park Jihoon had approached Guanlin, extending kind help to the blind boy. He had taken hold of his arm gently, whispering cautions and delivering guidance with a beautiful, tinkling voice as they stepped onto the packed train together.

“What’s your name?” Jihoon had asked first, when he grabbed tightly on the boy’s sleeve to prevent it from being caught between the closing doors.

“Lai Guanlin,” Guanlin had replied with a smile on his face, and his unfocused eyes finally rested on Jihoon, as if they have finally found their place. “And you?”

“Park Jihoon.” Jihoon had found himself heating up at the boy’s intense focus on him. Though the boy couldn’t see, he seemed to be the only one who paid so much attention to Jihoon’s existence alone.

They had conversed throughout the ride, and Jihoon had found himself mesmerized by that wonderful voice, those brownish black swirls for eyes, and those sharply defined features.To Jihoon, the boy seemed perfect, if not for the visual impairment.

Guanlin, on the other hand, took great care to listen to Jihoon’s voice. His voice is light, soft, beaming into his life like a ray of sunshine in his storm of insecurity and darkness. He didn’t know what Jihoon looked like, but he didn’t care. To him, Jihoon possessed the voice and the kindness of an angel, and that was enough.

As time went on, they found themselves meeting regularly on platform 5 at 7:25 in the morning. They talked, they laughed, they linked arms and shared intimate touches. It was their own personal, affectionate way of communicating, and just through one simple touch, a thousand messages were delivered. They would exchange stories of their respective lives, some about their stress and burden, some about things worth celebrating and rejoicing.

They clicked so well, and soon found themselves exchanging phone numbers. They would regularly send each other audios, recording bits and pieces of their lives every few hours so they could let each other know they were doing well. Sometimes, their audios would sound meaningless, contentless, but they treasured every one of them.  
  
2/3/17 5:30 pm, Jihoon: “I just reached home and I realized I have bird droppings on my shirt! Damnit, when did that happen?”

2/3/17 5:43 pm, Guanlin: “Haha, even the birds love you. I can understand that.” 

4/3/17 8:00 am, Guanlin: “I’m pretty lucky that I’m blind, the teacher isn’t scolding me for being late.” 

4/3/17 9:15 am, Jihoon: "You brat, how are you recording an audio when you’re at school?” 

4/3/17 9:16 am, Guanlin: “Disabled people privileges? And aren’t you doing the same, Jihoon?”  
  
Through their daily interaction, Jihoon changed his thoughts on Lai Guanlin. If the boy was going to view his disability so positively, why should Jihoon see it as a flaw? They would often joke around, about things that Guanlin could or could not do just because he was blind, and it only brought laughter and joy to both of them, since they both knew that this so-called sickness was nothing but an obstacle that they had long gotten over.

“Guanlin, how does it feel?” Jihoon once asked when they eventually became close enough to feel at ease with even the most sensitive of questions. “To be blind, I mean?”

Guanlin hums, his eyelashes hooding his beautiful brownish black eyes as he drops into deep thought. “What do you think, Jihoon?” He had asked the question in a gentle voice, with no hint of sarcasm. It is as if he was trying to encourage Jihoon to think, to stand in his shoes. “It actually depends greatly on the person themselves.”

So Jihoon tried to visualize himself in Guanlin’s shoes the following evenings.

When night came, he let the darkness overwhelm him. Shutting his eyes, he would imagine this as the permanent state he would be in.

It was okay the first night, when he took an hour to put himself in Guanlin’s place. The darkness felt a little uncomfortable, and he seemed to have trouble thinking of what he would do when his surroundings were the actual world he had stepped foot in in broad daylight.

But from the second night on, he slowly adjusted to it, and he started _actually_ thinking, pondering on the various things that Guanlin had done and imagining doing them himself, without being able to see.

He imagined not being able to watch his favourite TV shows or movies, imagined only listening to the soundtracks of these clips and having to picture in his head what was actually happening. He imagined not being able to see the encouraging smiles on his friends’ faces when he aced a test, or his mother’s kind expression whenever she prepared the meal on their dining table, or the stern look his father would put on whenever he would lecture him on his grades. He imagined not being able to see his loved ones or watch them grow up with him, and imagined not knowing the face of his lover.

At this point, Jihoon felt absolutely devastated. So he willed himself to sleep, and the next morning, he finally consulted Guanlin and told him what he thought.

When he tried speaking, however, he found himself stuttering and stumbling over his words. Guanlin had heard his voice waver because his ears were always sensitive to Jihoon’s every movement. 

“Are you crying?" He had asked Jihoon, the smile falling off his face.

Jihoon had sniffed under the noises of the train running on the tracks and the soft chatting of the people around him, but that did not go unnoticed in Guanlin’s ears. Before Jihoon could deny the claim, Guanlin had reached out for the first time to touch his face, his left hand clumsily fumbling until he reached the soft skin of his cheek. He had used a thumb to brush away a rolling tear, his voice nearly breaking as he said, “Don’t cry, please.”

Jihoon leaned into the touch, enjoying the coolness of Guanlin’s big palm on his tear stained hot cheeks. He wiped away his tears and clasped tightly on Guanlin’s hand.

“Is that how you feel, Guanlin?” he had asked with great courage, though the tears are threatening to fall again. “Lonely, insecure, lost…”

“Jihoon," Guanlin had ducked his head a little so he could face the other, and Jihoon found his cheeks heating up once more as the boy leaned into his space. “That is part of it, but there’s really a lot more to it than you think. When you don’t get to see, you rely a lot more on your other senses. Your hearing, your sense of touch… all that. It helps you see the world as it is. At least I have a picture formed in my head, of everything around me.”

After that, he slid his palm on Jihoon’s cheek gently, caressing them with unspoken affection.

“I have a picture of you in my head. You are an angel, a fairy; someone completely out of this world. You are beautiful, so beautiful.”

When Guanlin had said that, Jihoon let his tears fall, and he let himself fall too. Fall, into the pit that is his love for Lai Guanlin.

Years passed, and they graduated from high school. Jihoon went to the university he desired, and Guanlin went to a college for people with special needs.

“I could have gone with you if I weren’t blind,” Guanlin had once expressed. It was the first time, it seemed, that he complained about his impairment, and Jihoon found his heart clenching when he heard the pain and helplessness in the other boy’s voice.

“It’s okay,” Jihoon had said, forcing a smile even though Guanlin couldn’t see it. “Just four years, yeah?”

But of course he knew, the time wasn’t the problem. Guanlin was an intelligent boy, but due to the normal universities’ lack of facilities for students with special needs like him, he had no choice to go to a college that could cope with his kind. It was regretful, almost pitiful, that Guanlin could not go to the top universities simply due to his disability.

Jihoon felt a mixture of rage and indignance, that Guanlin deserved better but he couldn’t get it due to one teeny, tiny problem, and that was his visual impairment.

Guanlin had detected his sympathy, but he did not say much about it. There was only one sentence he dropped before he headed off to college, though, and it was this: “Don’t pity me, I’ll catch up soon.”

It was a relatively positive message, so Jihoon was relieved temporarily by the thought that Guanlin could keep a bright mind.

They kickstarted the school year with the audio tapes again, sending each other bits and pieces of their life to get each other as involved as possible. They would even meet up at restaurants, bookstores, arcades, coffee shops, and all the places that young couples would go to.

10/9/18 3:32 pm, Jihoon: “My lecturer for Literature is crazy young. He looks like he’s just graduated from uni, I can’t believe this.”

10/9/18 4:16 pm, Guanlin: “Male or female? Anyway I’m mostly in small classes, we don’t really have lecturers. The teachers seem a bit cold towards us, but I can’t really blame them.”

10/9/18 5:30 pm, Jihoon: “Sorry, class just ended. He’s male, by the way. And how are your teachers treating you? I bet you’ll be their favourite, since you’re so smart.”

At 5:31pm, Guanlin sent him an audio with him just laughing, and Jihoon saved it and replayed it again and again, savouring the wonderful, cheery sound.

This continued like for a while, and they each seemed quite satisfied with their lives. They would send audios, save audios, replay audios, and enjoy each other’s silent company in each other’s arms at quiet, cozy places. 

However, one month later, Guanlin’s audios seemed to sound much less joyful, and they came much less frequently.

4/10/18 7:36pm, Jihoon: “Guanlin, how are you doing? I haven’t heard from you since last week. Anyway, just wanted to tell you that I met a few amazing friends, and they’re all dying to meet you.”

5/10/18 11:27am, Jihoon: “Guanlin? I’m worried. Talk to me when you’re free! Miss you. Do you want to eat at the barbecue place I told you about earlier? I can book dinner!”

10/10/18 12:45am, Guanlin: “I’m doing fine. Sorry for replying late. Teachers make us stay after class to talk, apparently for counselling? I don’t think they are good counsellors, by the way. I’d much rather talk to you. They always treat us like we’re so… so different. I just wished I would be seen like a normal person.”

10/10/18 1:01am, Guanlin: “Sorry, you’re probably asleep. Hopefully I didn’t wake you up with the notifs. And ignore my audio earlier! Just a little depressed, but it’s a temporary thing. I’ll get over it soon. Anyway, let’s go to the barbecue place! You tell me the time, since you’re busier than I am.”

11/10/18 9:18 am, Jihoon: “Oh my god, what were you doing up so late? I hope you’re resting well. Can’t wait to see you. How does tomorrow sound? I miss you a lot.”

Jihoon could hear the fatigue in the other’s voice, but he assumed it was just college stuff. They would meet up like usual, chatting and bathing in each other’s presence when they did. 

However, during their meetings after those few strange audios, Jihoon found that Guanlin had slowly grown distant. It wasn’t a distance deliberately put between them, but rather something that crept up onto them like a shadow, lurking silently around them, but neither of them wanted to bring it up in their conversations.

There was this one lunch they spent at Jihoon’s university’s coffee shop. Guanlin had come to him, looking extremely tired, settling down on the opposite of Jihoon with a long face. This Guanlin was unfamiliar to Jihoon, and so he used all the ways he could think of to cheer him up; buying him his favourite green tea latte, getting him a delicious blueberry cheesecake that this particular coffee shop was famous for, and telling stupid jokes that made even himself redden in embarrassment.

But Guanlin didn’t seem to brighten up at all. When Jihoon asked why, he only replied with a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Jihoon had been startled at the sudden unexpected apology. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Then Guanlin replied with something that would forever be etched into Jihoon’s heart in the most gruesome, painful way possible.

“I’m sorry that I’m not good enough for you.”

“What?”

“I’m blind…” But Guanlin didn’t continue afterwards, and Jihoon could already guess what he was going to say.

Jihoon felt a wave of sadness approach him like a roaring tide, because the Lai Guanlin whom he loved, who had once looked at his disability with such positivity, had changed. He had changed to think that, he, a blind man, is not fit for a fully capable, healthy young man, Park Jihoon.

“But you are good enough,” Jihoon had whimpered softly, but that was only after the boy had left, his white cane in his right hand, feeling the way through the coffee shop to reach the entrance. 

Jihoon had watched with fluctuating emotions as the boy bumped into a few people and murmured quick apologies. He noticed a few weird glances thrown towards Guanlin's way, and Guanlin somehow seemed to notice. His figure slouched, curling himself in as if for some kind of defense, before he crept away with his white stick in front of him.

“What, a blind boy?”

Jihoon’s eyes darted to a few people around in the cafe, who were starting to whisper to each other.

“Does our university even take in those with disabilities?”

“I would tell him to watch his step, but damn.”

A few giggles had followed, and Jihoon couldn't bear listening any further. How could the world be so cruel? He grabbed his bag and left the café, but not before throwing a glare at those that had spoken rudely about Guanlin.

When Jihoon left, his heart tugged on his chest, and he could not resist the tears that fell out of his eyes, rolling onto his warm cheeks without warning. It was the second time he cried because of Lai Guanlin, but the pain was more dulling, and this time, Lai Guanlin’s palm wasn’t there to catch his tears.

The nasty feeling from that lunch extended the entire week; Jihoon couldn’t stop repeating the words Guanlin had said to him, recalling his unfocused eyes darting back and forth at the table. Whenever he thought of it, a gush of sorrow rushed into his heart, gripping onto it and squeezing it mercilessly like to a wet towel. Jihoon’s tears flowed, and almost every night that week, he cried himself to sleep thinking of darkness, dreaming of darkness.

Their meetings and audio exchanges continued as usual, even if they both knew something was not right. Guanlin no longer heard the vigour and joy in Jihoon’s voice, and Jihoon no longer felt or gave the touches so frequently that meant so much to them. 

They both made the effort to mend their relationship that had seemed to have broken without them noticing, and they took slow steps to comfort each other in hard times.

Two years passed in the blink of an eye, and Jihoon found that he no longer had the time to sulk, no longer had the energy to worry. He had to ace his subjects, get a good GPA that would make his parents proud, and graduate with flying colours so he could get a stable job and earn a steady income. At this point, all his friends shared the same thoughts as him, and he found himself quickly getting accustomed to spending time with them instead, working hard and playing hard and enjoying himself in the process.

Guanlin and Jihoon started to keep their meetings brief, and Jihoon had called off a few of their dates to rush deadlines and go into full study craze. 

3/3/20 7:14 pm, Jihoon: “Sorry I can’t make it to dinner today. Gotta hand in my paper. Ugh, save me.”

3/3/20 7:20 pm, Guanlin: “It’s alright. Don’t worry about it. Academics are more important.”

Jihoon’s Literature major was not as easy a subject as it seemed. He had a fighter that accompanied him in this battle, and that was Park Woojin. They stayed over at each other’s dorm rooms, pulling all nighters together, cramming late night notes, eating disgusting ramen and sleeping in the most awkward positions only to find themselves with bad neck and back pain in the morning.

In Jihoon’s mind, there was still Guanlin, but he became more of an obligation than an interest.

One night, Woojin plopped down on a chair in his room, stuffing himself with microwaved popcorn that was supposed to be Jihoon’s. “How’s that paper going?” he asked casually.

“Not good,” Jihoon said as his fingers flew on his keyboard, gritting through his teeth. “Bring me your friend’s psychology notes so I can refer to them for my paper.”

“Psychology? You mean the defense mechanism part?” Woojin raised a brow. “Seongwoo won’t lend that to me a second time in fear that I will spill coffee onto it again, but you can take what I have as reference. I’ll share it to you through Drive.”

“Thanks, you’re the best, love you,” Jihoon said carelessly, eyes scanning the screen from left to right. “You gonna crash tonight?”

“You told me not to, remember? Don’t you have a date with that boy-”

“Oh shit!” Jihoon slammed the laptop down, a look of horror crossing his features. “Holy shit. What time is it?”

“Around six fifteen?”

Jihoon’s eyes widened. He had promised to meet Guanlin at five thirty at the entrance of Guanlin’s college so they could walk over to the restaurant the other boy had recommended to him.

So he picked up his things and ran.

It was raining that day, and though Jihoon brought with him an umbrella, it was no match for the crazy wind that made the rain sweep mercilessly and attack him in all directions. He was drenched, sweat and rain clinging onto him through his clothes stubbornly. It was the perfect weather for him to be irritated; with himself, and the world.

By the time he had arrived, it was already six forty five. Jihoon panted, almost breathless as he stared at the small college in front of him. It was certainly not anything near as grand as his university. It was the first time he had come to Guanlin’s college, he realized, and it was truly underwhelming. Especially with Guanlin’s exceptional abilities, his intelligence, his aura… he deserved more.

That’s when he saw a familiar crouched figure that was leaning against the wall. Holding his breath, Jihoon walked closer to the figure.

Jihoon nearly dropped his umbrella when he saw the person up close. The pouring rain surrounded the silhouette with a white glow as they pounded on his tall, slouching body. He stood there, stubbornly waiting for someone to come, not even bothering to wipe his face of the wet droplets, or even take anything to shield himself from the rain.

Lai Guanlin did not have an umbrella, and he had probably waited for him in the pouring rain for more than an hour.

Jihoon’s heart clenched in guilt, and he silently reprimands himself when he walks over to Guanlin, gently pulling the boy into his warm embrace and putting the umbrella over the two of them. He could feel the boy tense up, but it was only for a moment, before he relaxed again and put an arm around Jihoon, slowly patting his wet strands of hair.

“I’m sorry.”

This was not the first time Jihoon had said sorry. He had become so used to calling Guanlin, telling him that he couldn’t make it to their promised dates, and that he was sorry, that he would make it up to him later.

When Jihoon pulled away, however, he saw a smile on Guanlin’s face. Those darkish brown swirls bore down on him, showering him with affection in the midst of this pouring rain.

“It’s alright,” said Guanlin for the millionth time.

Jihoon let Guanlin’s palm slide over his cheek like he always did, let his fingers grace over his nose, his eyelids, his lashes, his brows, and then back down to place fluttering touches on his lips. Guanlin’s fingers were icy cold, and Jihoon pulled him closer to himself, so he could let his own warmth envelope the other.

“You're so beautiful,” Guanlin said again, with a sad smile on his lips. “I don't deserve you.”

“There you go again, saying those stupid things.” Jihoon placed a soft kiss on his fingers and took hold of his palm to lean his face into it, hoping to warm the boy’s freezing cold hands with his hot cheeks. “Let's go get dinner.”

And so they did, fetching dinner at a small, cozy place down the street that Guanlin had said he frequented. The waiters were kind enough to lend them some towels to dry themselves off before they proceeded with ordering their meal.

A young female waiter, probably around Jihoon and Guanlin’s age, approached them the moment they entered the restaurant. She was a cheerful and delightful girl, welcoming them with a gorgeous smile and some kind words.

However, something about her irked Jihoon.

Maybe it was the way that she put her arm around Guanlin’s, helping and guiding him to his regular seat beside the window. Or maybe it was her bright smile whenever she spoke to Guanlin, though they knew fully well that Guanlin couldn't see it. Or perhaps it was the way that she seemed to tend to Guanlin’s needs whenever he seemed to be uncomfortable, bringing in dry towels to dab away the dampness on his face and brushing his hair lovingly with her hands because ‘his hair was messy, unlike the usual’.

But most of all, it was the way Guanlin laughed at ease around her when she delivered the service to their table.

“You kept your promise of bringing him over,” the girl said to Guanlin with twinkling eyes, which only added to Jihoon’s irritation.

Guanlin laughed, a sound that was music to Jihoon’s ears. “Yes, I did. No one cares for me like the people at this restaurant does.”

_No one?_

Jihoon felt a pang of pain shoot up in his core, and he stared down at his drink as hd bit his lip, suddenly feeling that he's the one inferior here.

“Um, sir?”

Jihoon’s head snapped up, and he put on the best smile he could manage when the female waiter turned to him. She dipped her head and whispered something to him, and his eyes widened as he listened.

Afterwards, the girl left their table, and he and Guanlin were finally alone.

They sat in silence, even when their pasta and spaghetti arrived, as well as their drinks.

Jihoon pondered slowly on the girl’s words, his heart clenching more every minute that passed.

Then he finally spoke up, coming to quick decision that he must confirm what the girl had just told him.

“Guanlin, you were bullied?” His voice came out unsteadily, and it nearly cracked. His heart was hurting, and his head was aching.

The boy on the opposite side of him said nothing, staring blankly out the window as he fiddled with his fingers.

That's when Jihoon notices it. Through the damp, now almost transparent white sleeves of the boy, Jihoon could catch a hint of blue and black. He wasn't sure if he had seen wrong, but that was enough to make his breath catch, to make the hairs on his skin stand.

“Guanlin, let me have a look at your arms,” Jihoon said, his breathing uneven as his chest heaved up and down. Guanlin made no move to show him, so Jihoon had to stand and reach over to the other side of the table, taking hold his limp arms and rolling the wet sleeves up for the boy.

The sight made his knees weak. There were scattered patches of bruises all over the boy’s arms, and even though they weren't extremely dark coloured, they were obvious proof of abuse… and a solid confirmation of the girl’s claim.

“When did this start? And why? Who?” Jihoon grieved, he felt enraged. He was angry, angry at himself for not noticing it earlier, angry at Guanlin for not trusting him enough to tell him, angry that he had to know this through a girl that obviously had some special feelings for Guanlin, and extremely outraged at the fact that people even dared touch Guanlin like this.

“It's noth-”

“Tell me the truth, or I will get mad, Lai Guanlin.”

Hearing Jihoon’s angelic voice contort into that of pure rage and sorrow, Guanlin turned back to Jihoon with a look of sadness of his very own.

“What do you want to know?” He said quietly, voice steady and calm in contrast to Jihoon’s. “That I was bullied since I started studying here? That I'm hopeless despite my promise that I'd catch up to you one day? That I wanted to tell you but I couldn't, because you already had enough things to worry about? Or that I feel like such a burden to you that I felt like I deserved such treatment?”

“Say that again?” Jihoon froze at the last sentence, a feeling of despair washing over him immediately. “You think you _deserved_ it?”

When Guanlin said nothing, Jihoon dropped onto his seat, running his fingers through his damp, ruined hair. This was nothing close to the date he had imagined, but perhaps it was him who ruined it in the first place.

“Listen to me, Lai Guanlin. I don't know who those people are… Those who did these kind of things to you. They were the ones who had told you that you were a burden, weren't they?” Jihoon had to grip onto the napkin on the table to will his tears away and swallow them down. “You're never a burden to me. Never. I-”

“I am, Jihoon. I'm blind.” The more Guanlin speaks in the calm tone, the more it scares Jihoon. “And you don’t understand how much it pains me to know that you have to keep watching out for me, while I cannot repay the deed. I'm weak, I’m disabled, I’m useless-”

“You're not!” Jihoon couldn't stop the tears from brimming in his eyes, stinging his vision with a heated dampness.

“-but I love you. I love you, and I want to grow old with you.”

A weak gasp comes out of Jihoon’s mouth. Though they both knew their of feelings for each other, they had never confessed out loud, perhaps in fear of the unknown, like things that are happening right now.

But before Jihoon could reciprocate is feelings verbally, Guanlin went on. “Can you imagine having to take care of me as we grew old? Having to stick with this useless, blind man who can't even look out for you? And perhaps with the devastating thought that throughout our entire lives, your face will never be seen by your lover?”

“Can you imagine having a person who is less than capable of working by your side, and having to spend your entire life with them?” Guanlin chuckles at this point, and it's a cold, distant sound that tugs on Jihoon’s heart painfully. “I'll be a financial and physical burden for you, like I already am for my family.”

“I...” Jihoon whispers. He had never thought so far into the future, but he had always thought that he could forever be by Guanlin’s side.

“Even if you are willing to do all that,” Guanlin repeated, sitting up straight in his chair. “I am not. I want the best for you, Jihoon. You deserve someone, a man or a woman, who can give you all kinds of support when you need it. You need someone who can help you out, not someone who will wear you down.”

“But you don't wear me down-”

“You think I haven't noticed? How much more tired you've become these days. Meeting up with me must be quite a task for you. I'm sorry I had to pull you out to talk when you're so busy with your university.” Guanlin pursed his lips before he said, “You don't have to do this anymore.”

 _No,_ Jihoon thought, but his voice is stuck in his throat as tears roll off his cheek slowly. _You're not a task. I want you. I need you. I love you._

But somewhere in his heart he knows that he had failed Guanlin in many ways. He had shot down some of the meetings he had promised to show up in, and he had even slept at some of the dinners that Guanlin had prepared specifically for him. Most importantly, he had neglected Guanlin’s physical and mental state that had been tortured by merciless, heartless people, taking away any of the self esteem the boy originally had from him.

“For the good of the both of us,” Guanlin said as he got up from his chair, fumbling around clumsily for his white cane. “Let's break up.”

 _No, no, no._ Jihoon choked on his own saliva, tears running down his face helplessly as he saw the boy put down a few bills on the table before putting his stick onto the floor.

“Park Jihoon?”

Jihoon looked up expectantly, eyes red with sorrow and tears.

“Don't cry anymore, please.”

The boy reached for Jihoon’s shoulder and patted his way to his face, then gently wiped away the tears from his eyes like he did three years ago. Jihoon leaned into his touch, grasping onto his hand desperately, but the fingers quickly left his face.

Before he knew it, he was once again left to see the boy clumsily leave him, the stick in his hand swaying across the floor, before he exited from the restaurant and Park Jihoon’s life.

Jihoon had coped with the break up horribly, not wanting to let Lai Guanlin go, but at the same time feeling that the other boy definitely deserved better than someone who would occasionally call off dates and had neglected his well being due to his own ignorance. 

So every night after that, he cried himself to sleep once again, this time wishing the nightmares of darkness upon himself so he can have a taste of what Guanlin must have been going through when he was down.

And whenever he felt that the darkness was too bad to cope with, he would try to record audios to Lai Guanlin, even though he knew the other was not going to talk to him ever again.

“Guanlin, I dreamt of darkness tonight. I need some comfort. Talk to me.”

“Guanlin, I’m tired. I want you.”

“Guanlin, I don’t know if you’re listening to any of my audios. But I want you to know that I miss you.”

“Guanlin, I love you.”

Jihoon took his phone close to his chest and cried, soaking his pillow with the never ending tears.

Maybe this was what Guanlin had felt when he had neglected him?

With a newfound desperation to hear his voice, Jihoon replayed Guanlin’s every audio to him that he had disregarded earlier.

“Jihoon, have you eaten? I met a friend today, a little cat on the streets. He looks broken, but I like him. I would take him in if I could. Do you like cats? Maybe I can bring you to see him.”

“Jihoon, I know you’re busy, but I miss you, and I want to meet with you.”

“Jihoon? I miss you.”

“Jihoon, I… Nevermind. I hope I’m not disturbing your work.”

“Jihoon, it’s alright if you can’t make it. Just tell me.”

“Jihoon, it’s fine. I know you’re busy.”

“Jihoon…”

Jihoon couldn’t listen any further, because all of the other audios consisted of Guanlin saying that ‘it was alright’, even though it clearly was not.

“Are you alright?” Woojin once asked him worriedly when he clutched tightly onto his phone, though both of them were clear of the answer.

Jihoon looked up at him with weary eyes, the dark circles and eyebags making him look a few years older. He had slimmed down relatively as well, no longer having that signature baby fat that clung to his cheeks.

“I'm fine.”

He was not. Guanlin had completely vanished from his life now.

But time went on, and time didn't wait for people. Soon, Jihoon was graduating university, and he was taking a real step into society as an adult.

 

_Half a year later_

 

Jihoon stares at himself in the mirror, craning his neck to check if anything went wrong with his outfit. He is wearing sleek black pants and a dark blue dress shirt, looking ready and formal for a proper job interview.

He checks his watch. 7:20. He should head to the train station early, so he could have some spare time to grab coffee.

He picks up his phone and opens up the familiar chat window, and pressing on the mic button, he speaks, starting like he always did with a single name: “Guanlin”.

“Guanlin, remember the the company that I told you about? The one I really wanted to get into? I'm going to interview there today. Wish me luck. Love you.”

The audio becomes one of the many sent audios on his phone, and though all the audios came from Jihoon only, they are always reciprocated with a ‘read’ notification. This time is no exception. A small _ding_ rings in Jihoon’s phone, and he beams to himself.

Jihoon then slides the phone in his pocket and shoots himself a confident smile in the mirror. He had grown to be a handsome, sharp looking man, with all the baby fat shed from his body and replaced with newfound masculinity.

Jihoon heads out, a jacket in his hand and a one strap bag hanging down the other arm.

“I'll be heading out, Mom.”

“Okay, be safe son! And good luck!”

Jihoon walks down the road with breezy steps and arrives early at the station.

Just seeing the familiar platform brings him a wave of nostalgia and a little bit of sorrow, but he reminds himself that he's long over that.

Of course, that was before his eyes land on a figure on the side.

It's a man, he realizes, who is dressed up in a smart white turtleneck and dark brown pants. His back is facing Jihoon, but somehow he draws his attention, just with the overwhelming charisma and aura of confidence when he stood up straight, standing out as he is a rather tall figure in the crowd. Then Jihoon's eyes trail down and see a white stick in his right hand, propped firmly on the ground as the man looks forward.

Jihoon walks forth when the crowd moves, boarding the train like usual but not allowing his eyes to stray from the figure.

Then the person turns a little and steps aside, allowing the passengers to file into the train first.

Jihoom’s heart skips a beat, and his breathing quickens. He grasps onto the strap of his bag, inching closer to take a look.

But then he fails, because the people behind him are pushing, too. He has no choice but to stumble forward, stealing curious glances before deciding whether or not to snatch the arm of the person he had put his eyes on.

He thinks, _well screw it_ , and gently takes hold of the man’s arm, ignoring the familiar little sound of surprise before boarding the train along with him.

Jihoon takes hold of the other man’s sleeve to prevent it from being caught between the sliding doors when he asks, “What's your name?”

The man looks down on him, and Jihoon’s smile spreads when he sees a familiar face presented before him, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“Lai Guanlin,” the man says, his mature and handsome looking face lighting up, almost appearing infinitely brighter than before. “And you?”

“Park Jihoon.” Jihoon grabs tight onto his arm, hugging it to his chest and clinging onto it with his dear life as if he is afraid that the person before him will suddenly leave.

“Where are you heading?” The man asks, lowering his face closer to Jihoon's.

Jihoon grabs onto the man’s free hand and puts it on his face, splaying his fingers over his nose, his brows, his eyelids, so that the other could make a picture of him in his mind like he would, so many years ago. He felt the fingers trail over his features to his lips and stop there, and Jihoon lets his fingers feel his smile spread wider across his lips.

“To a new start,” Jihoon says, before pressing a soft kiss on the slender fingers that he grasps so tightly onto. “With an old love.”

_I will never let you go anymore._

* * *

Jihoon is about to turn off his phone when he arrives at YMC company for his interview.

To his surprise, he catches a glimpse of a notification. Someone has sent him a new text audio.

Guanlin: "Good luck. Tell me about it tonight."

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on my period and I just wanted to write this, idk why (hormones: ahem). I hope you're not too sad. Drop me comments so I could know if this was a horrible idea LMAO pls heal yourselves after this fic, loves.  
> btw if ur a grammar nazi im really sorry for my tenses. That being said, I hope it wasn't too hard to read.
> 
> Talk to me on twitter/cc: @encredame


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